


Sometimes, An Exhaust Pipe is Just An Exhaust Pipe

by r_e



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen, Inappropriate Workplace Humor, M/M, Other, arguably just set up for one of my worst jokes ever told, inappropriate storage of medical supplies, rated t for terrible jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 05:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_e/pseuds/r_e
Summary: For reasons that are unclear, the Decepticons and Autobots are forced to team up. This transition goes about as smoothly as a goat munching on red energon. Tensions rise within and across factions, as the twins have been promoted to glorified forklifts and Ratchet has to handle everything.So yeah, sometimes an exhaust pipe is just a exhaust pipe. Except when it's not.





	Sometimes, An Exhaust Pipe is Just An Exhaust Pipe

**Author's Note:**

> I remember thinking I would be the kind of author whose published work contained more than drabbles and dick jokes, but here we are.

"Why are _we_ doing this? There's more servos on deck than before," Sunstreaker whinged, pulling the next crate off the stack. Sideswipe shrugged, and took the supplies from his twin.

"Because Prime's still got his processor in a glitchy loop over having vehicons do anything?" he guessed.

Ratchet's ragged chuckle reverberated around the medbay. "Please, as if him and ol' Megawatt can stop fighting about whose fault this new mess is long enough to have opinions on the duty rosters." He shook his head. "No, you kids are in here 'cause at least I can keep an optic on you when you're sorting medical supplies."

Sunstreaker huffed, and started to unload his crate.

"Why can't you just go out and assign mecha to do things? You're like..." Sideswipe trailed off, counting off on his servos. "Okay I don't know how far down the chain of command you technically are. But can't your CMO privileges count for something?"

Ratchet gave him a look, optics squinted. "Sure, but they're not gonna listen while they're busy trying to be the bigger bot, bigger aft, or finally prove which mech's got the biggest spike."

The twins exchanged a glance as Ratchet laughed again, clearly missing a joke.

: _He's probably senile._ : Sunstreaker sent over their bond.

Shrugging, Sideswipe turned back to his own crate. Piece by piece he emptied it onto the workbench, sorting the supplies into piles with other like objects. This crate's contents matched easily with the established piles, save for one element. He picked it up last, probably not as carefully as he should have done for unknown medical materials, and started flexing it between his servos. It was clearly replacement material for...something, but he couldn't tell what. Naturally, he asked.

"The Pit is this?"

Ratchet looked up from where he was fabricating some of the more delicate supplies from the latest raw material shipments. "Replacement mesh." Sunstreaker stopped his own sorting to join Sideswipe in this new discovery.

"Isn't that usually in strips, though?" he asked, gesturing to the rolls already stacked up on shelves. "Not...pre-fab tubes of it?"

"Sometimes insides gotta be replaced too, kid."

"But what could this possibly be for?" Sideswipe exclaimed, stretching the mesh as far as the clear protective packaging would allow. "There's only so much space inside a mech, there's no way anything needs this much give." He'd managed to spread his hands almost the width of his own torso. He might not be the biggest mech in the faction, but he sure wasn't the smallest, and it seemed like the material would go even further apart if it weren't still in the sealed plastic.

"Lots of mecha need something a little specialized. Especially if Prime is involved." Ratchet's tone was almost conspiratorial, and his servos were suspiciously empty and still as he crossed the medbay to pluck the mesh from Sideswipe's untrained manipulation.

"The frag does that mean."

The medic's face plates shifted, and he paused for a moment. Clearly calculating something, and neither Sideswipe nor Sunstreaker liked the thought of that.

"Remember how they're having it out in a spike measuring contest?"

"Yes?" Sideswipe's vocalizer fritzed over the syllable.

"Well," Ratchet began, at the same time as Sunstreaker's pained yelp cut through the space.

"No! My processor! Why would you _tell us that_ \--fragging Primus. Slag you, slag the Pit, slag Unicron's staticky valve--"

"Hey, someone's gotta be the judge!" Ratchet's previously controlled snickers blossomed into a full-fledged chassis-rattling laugh.

"Nope, no thank you, Sunny we're leaving," Sideswipe declared, hastily wiping his servos off on anything he could reach, trying very plainly to shake the _idea_ of what he'd been handling out of his recent memory.

As the two scrambled out of the medbay, the considered offlining first each other and then themselves at Ratchet's parting remark chased them down the hallway.

"You expect a mech to turn that _down_?"

* * *

Ratchet looked up from the last of the itemization at the sound of a vocalizer resetting behind him. Turning around revealed his lovers stood in the doorway, slouching as needed to make room for the other without actually crossing the threshold. Well. Maybe lovers was too positive of a word. Source of overloads and helmaches didn't quite roll of the glossa with the same ease.

"Well?" Megatron barked. Optimus tried to look affronted but clearly had something similar on his processor.

"Did you two finally work something out? Without needing my professional attentions?"

"Yes."

"Technically--"

Ratchet held up a servo. "You know the deal, after last time. 

Megatron and Optimus both moved to speak again, but Ratchet just stared at them. For once in the cycle, they kept their vocalizers off.

"Until you can both answer the question the same way, I'm just watching." At their displeased ex-vents, Ratchet grinned. "Think of it this way, it'll give me time to get your incentive ready."

Megatron cocked his helm, and Optimus paused, clearly flicking through recent reports.

"Is this related to Sunstreaker's complaint of unprofessional behavior?"


End file.
